My age's issues are a ghost. In my mind, I'm a little child that scraped her knee on the rough concrete. Now I lay, bawling on the ground, blood in my wound, waiting for someone to pick me up. I'm in pain and it tortures me till I can't see a reason to stand up anymore. I'd rather roll in mud and dust forever. Too afraid of standing on my own feet. No one takes my hand to pull me up again, my arms are too long in their reality. How I wish to be a child again.
